Chapter 00157: Negotiating the Price
# Negotiating the Price
Chapter 157
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 157: Negotiating the Price
Chen Qi took some time to meet with the Yuan brothers.
Yuan Heping congratulated him on the success of *Tai Chi* and expressed hope that Chen Qi would write another script for the Yuan family's production team.
Chen Qi readily agreed, though he made no promises about when he would actually write it.
He was a busy man, after all.
Historically, the Yuan family's company had its ups and downs over the years, eventually closing its doors in the mid-1990s.
Their martial arts films were undeniably well-made, but the genre was too monotonous—they only made kung fu movies.
In Hong Kong, kung fu films weren't always in vogue.
They would be popular for a few years, then fade, only to surge again later.
Yuan Heping didn’t know how to make anything else, and his lack of innovation meant they couldn’t compete with other companies.
Moreover, they didn’t have any big-name stars to carry their films.
The brothers were a quirky bunch, and they just didn’t have the star power to draw audiences.
In the end, it all came down to their small scale.
A small company simply had a low ceiling.
After meeting with the Yuan brothers, Chen Qi had a private meal with Li Hanxiang.
Li was preparing to film *The Amorous Woman of the Tang Dynasty*, and while he had naturally made some changes to the script, he still followed the rules and gave Chen Qi credit for the original work, including that infamous line, "Carrying a knife in the rain but no umbrella."
This time, *The Amorous Woman of the Tang Dynasty* might not star Xia Wenxi.
She was still a model at this point and hadn’t yet entered the film industry.
Chen Qi didn’t mind.
He just wanted to earn his script fee and build a relationship with Li Hanxiang.
The payment was 15,000 Hong Kong dollars, handed over discreetly.
This money couldn’t be taken back to the mainland, so Chen Qi had to spend it in Hong Kong.
He used the Great Wall Studio’s account to buy clothes for Li Wenhua, Li Lianjie, and Gong Xue.
The clothes weren’t expensive, but they were decent enough—after all, they were heading to Berlin in a few days, and only four people could go.
With the remaining money, he bought small gifts for the rest of the team.
At least they could brag about not having come to Hong Kong for nothing.
For some reason, Chen Qi used the last bit of money to sneakily buy a few boxes of condoms—the largest size, of course.
When everyone found out he had paid for it himself, they were deeply moved.
Once again, the power of money worked its magic.
Chen Qi had always been generous.
If you wanted your subordinates to be loyal, you had to give them something in return.
Who would be foolish enough to follow you otherwise?
…………
Tsim Sha Tsui, Nathan Road.
In later years, Nathan Road would be lined with luxury stores, cosmetics shops, and skincare boutiques.
But at this time, the area was a bit chaotic, with all sorts of shops selling everything imaginable.
Chen Qi and Fu Qi managed to find some time to visit an electronics store.
The store sold all kinds of household appliances, but what caught their attention was a sign at the entrance that read: "Golden Lion Video Rental!"
They went inside and found a small, makeshift counter in the corner of the store.
The most eye-catching feature was a wall lined with wooden shelves, each stacked with rows of video tapes.
A short, thin middle-aged man greeted them warmly.
"Boss, looking to rent some tapes?"
"Do you have a good selection?"
"There are so many movies out there, so of course we don’t have everything. But in Hong Kong, I dare say no one has a better selection than me. I was the first to do this here!"
Chen Qi casually pulled out a few tapes.
There were both Hong Kong films and Western movies.
"How much per day?"
"Fifteen dollars!"
"That’s expensive!"
"A single tape costs 200 dollars to buy! Renting is much cheaper. If you’re here to rent tapes, boss, you must have a VCR at home. You can afford this."
Chen Qi picked out a few tapes at random, and Fu Qi paid the man.
The man’s smile widened.
"Boss, would you be interested in joining our club? We’re all movie enthusiasts. Whenever someone gets a new tape, we often swap and watch each other’s collections."
"Oh? You seem pretty experienced. Have you been doing this for long?"
"Not too long. I used to work in Taiwan…"
The man was quite talkative.
He introduced himself as Roman Kay, born in the U.
S. but had worked in Taiwan, where he and his friends had formed a club to exchange video tapes for fun.
Later, he moved to Hong Kong and saw the potential in this business, so he opened this little shop.
"Do you get a lot of customers?" Chen Qi asked.
"Some, but not a huge amount. Home VCRs are just starting to become popular, so there aren’t many around yet. But anyone who buys a machine will definitely come here to rent tapes. Once they come, they’ll come back. They’re loyal customers."
"You’re the first in Hong Kong, after all!"
"Haha, that’s right!"
After chatting for a while, the two left.
Chen Qi immediately said, "Uncle Fu, why don’t you open one of these?"
"Do you think this business will take off?"
"It’s obvious! It wouldn’t cost much to set up, and it could open up a new distribution channel. Take *Deadly Curve* or *Tai Chi*, for example. Once they leave the theaters, there will still be people who want to watch them. They’ll come to rent them. Plus, you could create some buzz—like offering a 'complete version' or a 'director’s cut' of *Deadly Curve*. Some people really go for that kind of thing. If the market grows, great. If it doesn’t, we’re not out much. What’s the harm in trying?"
"You always have these wild ideas. But we’ll need to do some on-the-ground research. I’ll think about it seriously," Fu Qi said with a laugh.
The video rental business had started to take off in the late 1970s.
As home VCRs became more common, it had become a hot market by the mid-1980s, and even more so in the 1990s, until VCDs and DVDs came along.
They were essentially the same thing, part of the same distribution channel.
It was 1981, and the video rental market was just starting to gain attention.
It wasn’t yet a booming industry.
But Chen Qi knew how big it would become.
It would become an indispensable part of the film industry.
In Hollywood, some movies wouldn’t even hit theaters—they’d go straight to video and still make a decent profit.
…………
Back at the hotel, some film distributors were already waiting.
The Berlin Film Festival was set to open on the 13th, and they were leaving Hong Kong on the 11th.
Today was already the 10th.
*Tai Chi* had been released on the 3rd and was still pulling in an average of 1 million dollars a day, with total box office earnings reaching 8 million!
*Security Unlimited* had been released four days earlier and had been showing for 12 days.
Audience enthusiasm had waned, and daily earnings had dropped to around 600,000 dollars.
Its total box office had surpassed 10 million, making it the second film after *The Young Master* to break the 10-million mark.
But as one rose, the other fell!
Everyone in Hong Kong’s film industry was waiting to see when *Tai Chi* would overtake *Security Unlimited*.
Once it did, the final outcome would be all but decided.
Under these circumstances, distributors from Japan, South Korea, and Southeast Asia were bound to come knocking.
"Mr. Chen, 30,000 U. S. dollars is a very sincere offer! You can’t get much more than that. It’s the standard."
"The only purpose of standards is to be broken. 30,000 is too little. *Tai Chi* is a film that can bring a dying theater back to life. We don’t want to sell it cheap."
Seeing that the Southeast Asian distributor was about to try to persuade him further, Chen Qi raised a hand to stop him.
"The Berlin Film Festival is about to start. Will you be going?"
"Yes!"
"Then let’s talk in Berlin. If you’re really sincere, you can wait a few more days."
"Alright!"
The Southeast Asian distributor had no choice but to shake hands and leave.
Chen Qi sighed.
"Uncle Fu, are overseas rights always this cheap?"
"That’s how it is. In places like Japan, where the economy is strong and the market is big, they pay more. But smaller, poorer countries can’t afford much. 30,000 U. S. dollars is actually pretty good. Some only pay 10,000, or even just a few thousand dollars for a film."
"But…"
"It’s about volume. Sell to more countries. A few thousand here, a few thousand there—it adds up. Japan offered 350,000 U. S. dollars, which is quite sincere. Don’t be too greedy."
"That’s not how I see it. The value of a film can actually… never mind. Let’s talk about it in Berlin."
At this time, selling overseas rights usually meant a flat fee, with no profit-sharing.
Who would agree to profit-sharing?
Chen Qi didn’t want profit-sharing either.
The payment cycle was too long, and there were too many uncertainties.
Just look at Hollywood’s tricks—they could make even *Harry Potter* and *The Lord of the Rings* look like they were losing money.
He was doing business under the radar of the China Film Group.
What he wanted was a quick and clean deal, to get the money as fast as possible.
The overseas rights for *Shaolin Temple* had sold for 3 to 4 million U.
S. dollars, and that was his benchmark. *Tai Chi* should at least match that.
Don’t compare this era to later times.
Do you know what the country’s foreign exchange reserves were last year?
1.296 billion U.
S. dollars.
That’s right—negative.
A few million dollars might seem small, but it was more than some provinces earned in foreign exchange for an entire year.
And that was just from one film.
(End of Chapter)